


The Might of thy Breath

by filenotch



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Stargate SG-1 AU: Mezzanine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-03
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Brian reads people better than almost anyone, but JD Neilson doesn't make sense. <i> ...this man in front of him, with his tattoos and his fucked up sleeping arrangements and his easy knowledge of old things, a liar and an honest man--he wanted to know more, not just do more.</i></p><p>In the Mezzanine AU of SG1, Cammie Mitchell didn't make it off the ice intact, and she teams up with, Jack O'Neill's clone (courtesy of Loki), for life, software development, and snark. It would be perfect if Cammie were male, because JD is queer as a football bat. They take their physical love elsewhere. But how does their life, their love, look to someone from the outside?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an AU of an AU. synecdochic pursued an idea that started with this: Suppose Cameron Mitchell ended up permanently disabled, and Jack O'Neill's clone, who goes by JD Neilson and is physically about 16, showed up with an idea to start a software company? Thus [Broken Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/series/435085), a very long, amazing read. (What's it like to be Jack's clone, and not be allowed to be Jack? What happens when the war you can't talk about breaks you? Book 1 is love. Book 2, with plot plot plot and Goa'uld hiding in plain sight on earth, will _gut_ you. Then she puts it back together.) About this time, she also wrote the [Cammieverse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/436129) with Ivorygates, with a gender-flipped Cameron Mitchell. (Great fun, with the ramifications intelligently thought through.) Then they mixed the two together, and they got [Mezzanine](http://archiveofourown.org/series/437797), with Jack's clone and a Cammie Mitchell who did not make it off the ice unscathed, and eventually Daniel, who comes back after 10 years on Atlantis. It's a compelling story about love, and its many, many forms.
> 
> Someone on LJ commented on what it might be like to see JD and Cammie through the PoV of one of JD's lovers. This is one such story. **See end note for possible trigger warning.**

_Your fearful form is the work of the deathless gods. To spare the flat and fertile lands they placed you in your depression. A rocky island from which they banished the sand. They placed you as a neighbor to the pyramids...Who vigilantly watches the blessed Osiris... -_

Inscription from the second century A.D.

 

"What happened with your last boyfriend?" The voice was close, and Robert thought he must have drifted off, not to have felt the bed shift.

He opened his eyes and decided it was a bad idea. How much had he had to drink? They'd started with mimosas just after noon, and he'd had something alcoholic in front of him for the rest of the day. Robert said, "You know all about Raoul."

"Actually, I don't. But I mean JD."

"You got me drunk," Robert accused.

"It wasn't hard. Any other way you were going to talk about it?"

Robert brought his arm up to cover his eyes. "When did you start reading women's magazines? _Get hubby to spill his secrets with this sure-fire truth method._ "

"Hubby? You really must be drunk." And then, in a softer voice, "That bad?"

"It wasn't--" He had started to say it wasn't bad, but he wasn't sure that was true. "I got everything wrong."

"You're never wrong."

Robert waved his arm vaguely, collided with a face, and ran the back of his fingers over the cheek. "Not usually."

"I like that you can usually read me. Saves talking."

"For someone who doesn't like talking, you do a lot of it," Robert said.

"I do not talk. I bitch. Anything that means anything is harder. And, you know, I've never seen you _not_ talk so hard about anything else. Not even Raoul. Why is this different?"

Robert felt lips on his fingers, then teeth, gentle. It felt good. "It's hard."

"Because it meant something, or because you were wrong?"

"I could see things," Robert said, "but they never fit together."

 

 

 

"Have you seen it?" Sunny said, moving next to Robert on the dance floor and shouting up loud enough to be heard.

"Seen what?"

"That firestick." Sunny had, manners but rarely used them. He pointed to a man Robert had noticed several times over the last few weeks, with longer hair and a mesh shirt with patterns running underneath. From here Robert couldn't see the leather jeans that had caught his eye by the bar, but the man moved in subtle, beautiful ways, burning up the dance floor.

"Where have you been?" Robert asked. "I saw him weeks ago. He's probably going to be a regular."

"Probably you just haven't made it around to him."

" _Probably_ not my type," Robert said. "Looks pretty toppy."

Sunny just grinned, "So do you. Nobody expects _me_."

Robert ran his hand down Sunny's long hair, squeezing the big shoulder pads of the women's jacket he wore. "Yeah, little Asian boys in Spandex dresses just scream _fierce top_."

"Bodywear and a blazer rocked an entire decade," Sunny said. "And I tell you, you should try me sometime. I could change your mind."

"Just not my thing," Robert said. It hadn't been his thing in five years, but Robert could hear his therapist's voice saying, _If you're starting to dream about it in terms of pleasure rather than force, you might consider trying it again._ Robert removed Sunny's hand from his ass. It was an old game. "Brunch tomorrow?"

Sunny nodded, and drifted toward the man in the mesh shirt. Robert came off the dance floor, suddenly not in the mood. He'd been going to Sphinx every week since it opened a couple of months ago. For now it was the right thing, loud and focused only on dancing and sex. All he had to pay attention to was whether he was in someone's sights.

But Sunny had put him off, and he wasn't up for anything right now. He headed to the back bar, the quiet one with the video feeds from the dance floor. Out of habit he checked the mirror behind the bar, adjusting the longer hair in front, but trying to stop before it looked like he was preening. He knew he was a firestick himself, tried not to trade on it so much, but appearance was pretty much all that mattered in a place like this. There were some beautiful men here, especially the one Sunny had pointed out. Robert looked over at the screens showing the dance floor to see if Sunny was making any progress, but he couldn't see them anywhere in the video feeds.

When he turned back to the bar, he had a beer in front of him. "Hope it's not a presumption," said a feminine, southern voice.

He'd been looking at his own face, and hadn't seen her. Real women were not common in Sphinx, but her voice had no metal in it at all. He glanced at her profile in the mirror before turning to face her and check her neck and the size of her hands. Real tits. Real woman. "Thanks," he said, "but--"

She cut him off, but it was politeness, keeping him from having to refuse her. "I suspect we're not each other's types. Momentary pleasure of your company, is all. Cameron Mitchell," she said, and put out her hand.

He shook it out of habit, absently noting the firm, confident grip, and blinking for a moment because the Sphinx wasn't a place of formal introductions, or even last names. He found himself saying, "Robert Brian. What brings you here?"

"Atmosphere, and scenery," she said, the last with a wicked smile.

He looked at her-- _at her_ , and not simply for overt signs and signals. Objectively, she was attractive. Good hair, strong enough features to make him double check the neck and hands, a chest the drag queens would envy, a dress that barely contained it, and a cane. He stuttered mentally at that, wondering if he could ask and knowing he couldn't. It made him defensive, and he tried to clamp a polite lid over his next thought, which was, _Fag hag_. What came out felt just as rude. "Thanks for the beer, but you could just look from a distance." He reached for it and took a sip.

"Why that there is pure an' unadulterated bribery." Robert almost spat his beer, and looked at her. She seemed to be laughing at him with an entirely straight face. "Like I said, pleasure of your company. Thought you might be interestin' to talk with."

Something about what she said made his brain stutter again. She said talk with, not talk to, and somehow that made him feel different about the whole strange beginning. He looked at her, watched her face and eyes, her posture. She read to him like she had an ulterior motive, but sex with him wasn't it. That made him curious. "And what would you like to talk about, Ms. Mitchell?"

"Just Cammie, please. Shoes, ships, sealing wax," she said.

"I'm out of cabbages and kings," Robert answered.

That earned him another smile. "So tell me about you," she said. "What do you do when you're not trying to cause riots on the dance floor."

He felt defensive again. "I wasn't trying to cause riots."

She smiled. "That's why it's so beautiful to watch. You know you're gorgeous, mirror don't lie, but you make it everyone else's problem, not yours." She took a sip of something clear and carbonated. "How many offers to model you turned down?"

"Good guess," he said, surprised, and not sure what to think. "Two serious ones."

"Why say no?"

"I didn't like anyone I met in the business."

Cammie seemed to like that answer. "What business you in now?"

"Aviation. I have a pilot's license, but I'm in marketing," he added, because everyone assumed he was a pilot.

"Military?" She asked.

"Not now, not ever. What business are you in?"

"Software development. Want to meet my business partner?"

He couldn't have said what the signal was, but the firestick with the mesh overshirt appeared next to her. "Mitchell, are you pestering this nice young man?"

"He is nice," she said. "Got some sense, too," and Robert could feel some signal pass between them. "Robert, meet JD Nielson. Nielson, meet a man with two first names, Robert Brian."

Robert could tell from her very slightly smug tone that this was her ulterior motive, vetting him for this JD Neilson. Robert put his hand out to shake, unsure of how he felt about having just been procured, and JD's grip was firm, his hand hot but dry. "Call me JD." Robert looked into his eyes, so dark as to seem nearly black, rimmed with black eyeliner he did not need. When they dropped hands, the sense of touch lingered. "Dance?" JD said. Robert stood, thinking, _What the hell?_ He'd been picked up in weirder ways, and this was just step one. Nothing said it had to go further. JD turned to Cammie, and the courtesy in his voice was ironic. "If you'll excuse us."

"Can't wait for the floor show," she answered, gesturing at the video screens, and it made Robert self conscious.

A half a song dancing with JD, and he was conscious of nothing but tense strength and heat. However weird the set up, JD went beyond firestick to internal combustion, with subtle moves that suggested sex without the crotch grinding going on around them. Halfway through the first song their hands were on each other, and Robert ventured under the mesh shirt to find skin, not another shirt. The patterns were tattoos, and never losing the beat, he traced his thumb over them, reaching high under the shirt to where they started in the middle of JD's chest. JD's hands ran behind Robert's neck, down his arm, and he leaned in. Robert tensed, waiting for JD to shout in his ear over the music, but he spoke to Robert's neck, to the bones behind his ear. "Want to see all of it?"

 _All_ probably meant going some place more private than the back rooms. Robert thought about it for half a moment, nodded, leaned in closer to brush JD's neck with his lips. He smelled good, with some musk that Robert didn't think was cologne. He touched his face to JD's, then stepped back to lead him from the dance floor, unsurprised that he aimed for the front door other than the back room. He was surprised when JD stopped at the archway to the video bar. Robert had forgotten about Cammie.

JD didn't help her off the stool, but Robert noticed as they moved toward the door that JD was walking to guard her without getting in her way. Robert held the door as they stepped out of the noise and into an early Autumn night that showed their breath on the air. He felt a moment of uncertainty, but JD gave him a look that could blaze a forest, and Cammie said, "We're parked 'round the side."

They walked together to the parking lot, slightly behind Cammie, with her cane and the near-shuffle that made him wonder. She was in decent shape, nice ass for a girl, and you couldn't miss it in the coral spandex that stretched across her every curve. It took him a minute to realize that the patterned tights he though she was wearing were tattoos. The color of the dress brought out a matching shade in the inks. Robert wasn't sure, but it looked like Cammie's legs were scarred, and the tattoos worked the rougher skin into the design. Certainly something from the waist down didn't work right. Robert liked the slower walk, though. It gave him time to bump shoulders with JD, brush fingers, and finally he slid his hand up the shirt to rest on the small of his back, one finger under the waistband of JD's leather jeans.

Cammie stopped at a car that had SUV somewhere in its ancestry, but was lower to the ground. "See you tomorrow, Neilson?"

Robert thought she'd probably said this before, any number of times with any number of other men. He looked at JD. "Your call."

"Your place," JD said. They continued on to Robert's Audi. He leaned to open the door for JD, but JD leaned against it, pulling Robert closer, holding both hands. "You're pretty hot, you know?"

Robert hadn't heard that since high school, but he said, "Takes one to know one," Robert said. "You're a firestick, yourself."

JD snorted. "Haven't gotten used to that turn of phrase."

"Would you prefer stud muffin?" Robert asked. He turned his hands and slid them up JD's arms. Hot was right. If JD's eyes weren't so clear, Robert would have thought he had a fever.

JD leaned in for a quick kiss, and turned to let himself in the car. Robert drove them to his apartment, trying to ignore the fingers on the inseam of his trousers, the touches snaking under the buttons of his shirt.

They wasted no time getting from the garage to Robert's apartment. Robert turned on the minimum number of lights. "Care for a drink?"

"What? Sure." JD sounded distracted, and when Robert looked, he was staring at the pictures on his walls. He gestured at the photo of an SR71 Blackbird, lined with turbulence, engine flames clear. It was flanked by a U2 Dragonlady spy plane, and an ER2 high altitude craft. "Nice pictures," JD said. "You fly?"

"Took lessons and got my license, but just civil stuff." Robert didn't say he'd only learned to fly to understand his sales targets better. "Those were pretty cool." Robert stepped into JD's space, putting his hand on his leather-clad ass, and added his usual line, "I guess I'm still twelve when it comes to airplanes." He felt JD snort with the amusement he'd hoped for. "You fly?"

"No," JD said. Robert pulled back a fraction, pretty sure JD was lying, if only because he'd answered so quickly. Robert took a breath, followed his instincts for keeping on track. He moved between JD and the wall, "Want a beer, or do you want to let me see your ink."

JD stepped back and stripped off his shirt without a word, folding the mesh over the arm of the couch. The lines that had been hinted at stood out beautifully, rippling over the muscle underneath. They were all black lines, from collarbone to sternum and down the arms to the elbow. They looked like script, like they had _meaning_ , but almost every tattoo had meaning to the person who wore it. Robert reached out and traced one black line, following it up and across to its mirror on the other side, only to find it wasn't a perfect mirror image. The design started at the collar bone and went down both arms to the elbow, as low as sternum. Robert wanted to see the rest of it, and walked around JD, his fingers following a line over the shoulder to find that it continued to join a long V to the base of the spine.

Robert put his thumbs on the point, and trailed them up, still following the black ink, until his hands were on JD's shoulders. He leaned in to kiss JD's neck, and JD turned, his mouth descending on Robert's shoulder, licking and nipping through the silk of his shirt. Robert trailed his hands down, and around, until they rested on the back pockets of the leather jeans. He pulled JD to him, hip to hip, and the moves they hadn't made on the dance floor took over here.

They never made it to the bedroom. In the heat of it, Robert couldn't remember how they'd got from grinding their erections through leather and wool to JD facing the back of the leather couch, knees on the cushions and bent over, with Robert, his shirt open, still in his shoes with his trousers around his ankles, balls deep and trying not to come yet, reaching for JD's cock, finding JD's hand already there, and stroking together, JD pushing back, moving, and sending them both over.

They froze, panting for a moment, Robert's head resting in the middle of the ink on JD's back, wondering at the warmth of his body. When he could talk again, he said, "So, still want that beer?"

JD laughed. "Sure."

Robert slid out, the contrast of JD's incredible warmth to the cool air made even more striking by being hypersensitive. He took off the condom, knotted it, and palmed it as best he could while he pulled up his trousers and retrieved his wallet from where it had fallen after he'd fished out the condom. He pocketed one and tossed the other in the trash in the kitchen, where he got two beers from the fridge and a damp paper towel to clean the mess off the couch. He could hear JD in the bathroom, and when he came out he was back in the leather jeans. He took the beer Robert offered, and tipped it up. Robert watched JD's throat work, JD's mouth on the bottle, and he wanted to know how that mouth would feel. When JD had swallowed a quarter of the beer he lowered the bottle and said, "I like how you do things backwards. Beer's better than a cigarette, anyway." He sat down to put on his shoes.

Robert took a minute to slot the reference. Smoking after sex. Right. JD must like old movies. To cover his mind working, Robert stepped close and ran the cool bottle along one of the lines of JD's tattooed shoulder. "Want to stay? That was a little faster than it could be."

"Got to get home." JD stood and pulled on the mesh shirt.

"Sometime again?" Robert asked. JD had been so responsive, Robert wanted to know what he could do with him stretched out on a bed. He didn't even know if JD's nipples were sensitive.

"Yeah, maybe." JD downed the most of the beer, pausing when his cell phone beeped. He looked at it, finished the rest of the bottle. "Ride's here." He must have messaged for it while Robert was getting the beers, which meant a cab company on his speed dial. "Thanks. See you around."

"Sure thing," Robert said, and closed the door behind JD. He sat down with his beer and picked up the remote.

An hour of flipping channels later, Robert's phone beeped with a text message from Sunny. `???`

Robert sent back, `! u?`

`brbj` Back room blow job. Robert smiled, imagining Sunny's expression. He was the only person Robert knew who could complain about getting a blow job. Robert had definitely had a better night. `c u @ brunch`

They'd talk tomorrow over eggs.

 

 

 

The next time Robert saw JD at Sphinx, he was dancing with a blond, but just dancing, so far. JD still moved like he could set fires, but didn't seem to be focusing the attention Robert had felt last week. Later at the bar he caught JD's eye, and got a slight smile in return, but JD turned back to watch the dance floor, sipping his beer. Robert read his body language, easy to do because every contour of his back was visible through a skin-tight, royal blue shirt. He read as relaxed, not hunting, but not uninviting. Robert picked up his own beer and moved down the bar, stepping up behind him.

He set down the beer before he realized what he was doing. _They_ came to _him_ , not the other way around. Robert shook it off and decided to go for the cheesy, ironic line. "What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"

JD turned, his black-rimmed eyes creased slightly with a smile that didn't reach his mouth. "Who said I was a nice boy?" There was a slight emphasis on the word boy instead of the word nice, and Robert didn't know how to interpret it, but the next thing that happened was JD downing his beer and dragging Robert out to dance.

They ended up in one of the back rooms, Robert against the wall and JD on his knees. Robert hadn't had a blow job that good since Raoul, who refused to suck rubber. The condom didn't matter with JD, because his mouth was so hot Robert could feel the tip of his tongue, every move and slide as a distinct thing even through the dulling sheath. Robert watched, wanting to make it last and knowing it couldn't, knowing from the movement of JD's shoulder that he was jacking himself as he took Robert's cock deep into his throat. Noise and fog, heat and friction, and Robert was gone.

When he came back to himself, JD was leaning against his thigh, mouth open and hand moving. Robert pulled JD to his feet, turned him to lean against Robert's chest, his head back on Robert's shoulder. Robert licked his own hand, reached around to take over, stroking, slowing down, trying to make it good. JD reached up and back, put his hands in Robert's hair and fucked into his fist. Robert rubbed his face in JD's long hair, pulled at JD's balls with his other hand, and stroked. When JD came, his whole body went tense and rock hard, until he slumped, letting Robert take his weight for a few seconds. Robert kissed the back of JD's warm neck, down to where the tattoos began, until JD shifted in his arms, and stepped away.

They emerged into the noise of the club's main room, JD ghosting by him toward the door, trailing his hand over Robert's ass. Robert went to the main bar for another beer, and watched Sunny leave with an unsuspecting office boy. The kid looked vaguely familiar.

 

 

 

Robert's phone beeped, and he looked at the clock on his desk. Quarter to five, so the message was probably from Sunny, nailing down where they would meet for drinks. Robert texted back a suggestion, but Sunny insisted on Jinx, a new place with pretentious decor. When Robert stamped snow from the first shower of the season off his shoes and walked in forty-five minutes later, Sunny was the only person in the bar area. He sat on a chair at one of the high chrome tables with a martini glass in front of him, filled with something that had a layer of red on the bottom. His hair was pulled back, and the flashy earrings he wore at the club replaced by small, solid gold hoops. Sunny's jacket was a burgundy check that managed to be businesslike and stylishly retro at the same time.

"What are you drinking?" Robert said as he sat down. "

"Tequila martini," Sunny said. "What are you having?"

"Just a beer. I have to fly out in the morning." Robert loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt.

"Where this time? Glamorous Seattle?" Sunny asked. "Hip and happening Houston? Alabama?" He tried for a Southern drawl with the last two, but his slight Chinese accent made it sound like more of a parody than he probably intended.

Robert smiled. "Seattle. And it's not like we're in New York here."

"No," Sunny sighed. "This bar just wishes it were. I still don't understand why you go to Alabama. They shoot boys like me there."

Robert shrugged, not wanting to think about it. Even Sunny's version of business dress would raise eyebrows down in Huntsville. "I don't pick where the aviation companies set up major offices. In the south I just pull out the baseball hat and fly under the radar." He got the attention of a waiter, who deigned to take his order for a beer.

After the waiter left, Sunny said, "They must import the staff from Cooler-than-you-ville."

"So why'd you pick this place?"

"Hired us for their national advertising. Airline magazines, that sort of thing. We're doing a shoot next week, and I wanted to see what it was like. They say it fills up around 9:00, but I wanted to see it empty and watch the people come in, see where they end up in the space."

Robert nodded. He'd met Sunny his first week in Colorado Springs at a marketing meeting. Sunny was the art director for a company they used as consultants, and he was good. If Jinx was hiring the firm, they had a lot of money behind them.

"So, what's up?" Robert asked. Sunny usually called him for drinks when he wanted to bitch about work, his family back in Boston and Taiwan, or his latest romantic disaster. Sunny surprised him.

"What's up with you and Tattoo Boy?"

Robert blinked. "JD? What do you mean?"

"You two an item? I mean, you wouldn't do anyone more than two or three times since Raoul left, but you haven't done anyone _but_ that firestick since the first time you walked out with him, what, two months ago? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Robert looked for his beer. It was sitting on the bar, with no wait staff in sight. He walked over to get it himself. "And how do you know I haven't done anyone else?" he asked as he sat down.

Sunny smirked at him. "Because I've been cleaning up your messes since you got back in circulation after Raoul left."

"What?" Robert had no idea what Sunny meant. "I haven't gotten involved enough to make any messes."

"No, that's the problem. You fuck them senseless, give them things they didn't even know they wanted, and when they think there might be something there, you don't notice them any more." Sunny sipped his drink. "They know we're friends, so they come to pour out their troubles to me."

This was the first Robert had heard about it. It made him feel strange. "You don't look too unhappy about it."

Sunny shrugged. "It supplies a steady stream of people needing sympathy fucks, or it used to." Robert snorted. "So," Sunny continued, looking directly into Robert's eyes, "if I'm going to lose my ready pool of fish, I want to know what's going on."

"Like I said, nothing." Robert dropped his eyes to his beer. The question made him uncomfortable, because he hadn't thought about whether anything was going on.

"Don't try to fool me," Sunny said. Robert was surprised at what he read from Sunny. The tone of voice said his concern was genuine, and there was an irritation, too. Jealousy, Robert concluded, seeing how Sunny wasn't looking at him. And Sunny was trying to hide it. Maybe he was still jealous that JD had gone home with Robert that first night, instead of Sunny.

"I'm not trying to fool you. It's just a thing. It's not like we talk," Robert said. "Maybe that's it. I don't think he wants anything more from me than sex. After Raoul, that's been refreshing."

"Right." Sunny nodded. "Let's talk about Raoul."

"Let's not." Robert paid someone to listen to his shit. He didn't want to go there with Sunny. He'd never even told him about the assault. It had happened a couple of years before they met, and hadn't ever come up in conversation.

Sunny wasn't ready to drop the subject. "I remember in one of those many drunk dialed calls you said he left because you were, and I quote, emotionally unavailable. He had a point."

Robert glanced up at Sunny. "So what? I'm from Minnesota."

"Right," Sunny drawled, and then he said, "Bullshit. Why have you spent all that money on therapy in the last year if you're just going to keep yourself closed off?" This time the irritation Robert heard was irritation. Sunny didn't usually poke at him like this. They got together so Sunny could complain. This wasn't how this was supposed to be.

"Yeah, yeah," Robert said, trying to dismiss it. "You're just mad JD hasn't ended up in your pool of fish."

Sunny smiled, but it was fake. "Maybe."

Robert tried another subject. "And what was that flowered number you were wearing last weekend?"

"Lilly Pullitzer from the Eighties. You have no idea how hard it was to get vintage Papagallo shoes in decent enough shape to match." Sunny became serious again. "Other news. I have an interview in Atlanta next week."

"What?" Robert asked, feeling blank. "You're thinking about leaving?"

Sunny shrugged. "I'm at the top of my heap here, and they called."

"Yeah, but it's the south." Robert wanted to talk him out of it. "Didn't you just say they shoot boys like you down there?"

"It's Atlanta. RuPaul got his start there. I won't go outside the city unless it's by way of the airport." Sunny waved toward the windows where snow was still falling. "I won't have to deal with this stuff down there."

Robert reached for some sense of normality, asking, "So what about work has you pissed off enough to think about leaving?"

Sunny let himself be led, and for the next hour they didn't talk about JD or Atlanta.

 

 

 

Robert leaned next to JD at the bar. "We're leaving now."

"I just got here," JD said, and held up his glass. "First beer."

"I have beer. Come with me now."

"Why the sudden urgency?"

"I want--" Robert swallowed. "I want not to be urgent." Then he felt stupid, repeating himself. "I've got beer at home."

JD cocked his head and looked at Robert with an expression that was amused and curious. "Okay."

On the drive, Robert tried not to think, but he couldn't help it. JD seemed entirely comfortable, not trying to impress, not needing to be impressed, same as always. He felt familiar and easy, and it was part of what he liked about JD. He was basically a nice guy, and he didn't want anything from Robert but what they both enjoyed. It also kept him interested, because he could never see what was underneath that unaffected cool. No one was really like that. He glanced at JD and found him looking, eyes half lidded, mouth half smiling. At the next red light, Robert looked at him and said, "What?"

JD's smile ghosted closer to real, but it gained an irony. "What am I thinking?"

Robert snorted, hearing what JD wasn't saying, that it was the kind of question insecure boyfriends asked. He'd heard it enough from Raoul. He set a different direction. "I hope you're thinking about what I'm going to do to you."

" _To_ me?"JD drawled.

"To you," Robert said. He wanted to strip JD down so that he could read more of him. "You get to sit back and enjoy the ride."

As soon as they got through Robert's front door, he dragged JD to the bedroom, pulled off his shirt, and used his mouth on every line of the tattoos that covered his shoulders and arms. He let JD's breathing guide how hard to use his teeth, when to back off and tease. They'd never taken their time, Robert had never turned all his attention on JD, and he intended to learn as much as he could. Robert knelt, still dressed, and reached around from behind to undo JD's button and fly, biting over JD's ass for a moment as he slid the trousers and briefs all the way down. JD toed out of his shoes, and Robert stripped him the rest of the way, using his mouth all the way down JD's legs. JD took it, soaked it all in, and Robert found that biting the backs of JD's knees required a very light touch, but could make JD shiver. Robert explored everywhere JD let him, but he learned that the inside of the elbows was off limits. He followed the lines of ink up over JD's shoulders, taking it slowly and using his teeth until he reached the point of the design down at the small of JD's back. He pushed on JD's hips to tell him to turn, and Robert rested his head for a moment at the top of JD's bare, strong thigh.

He breathed sweat and musk, warm on his tongue, before taking JD's balls in his mouth. JD moaned with a hitch, the typical combination of _fearvulnerableholyshitthatfeelsgood_ as Robert worked him, learning more of his scent and his noises. From there Robert pushed JD back on the bed, and climbed up next to him, keeping his own clothes on in a signal this was about making JD feel good. Robert traced the line of every line of muscle and bone with teeth and tongue, making a map, noting what had made JD shiver, moan, growl or flinch, and marking where to go back for more. When JD could reach him, his hands were on Robert, trying to unbutton his shirt, rubbing Robert's cock through his trousers in a motion of fingers so far from a crude grope that Robert couldn't help but notice, catalog..

Robert trailed his finger up the line of JD's straining cock, and followed it with his tongue. He reached into the night table drawer, found a condom and lube. JD must have heard the noise of Robert rummaging. "Yeah. God, please, just fuck me." He ran his fingers down Robert's side, the only part he could reach, and even through Robert's shirt, they left four hot lines. JD said, "Get naked. I want to feel your skin."

Robert stepped back and stripped, leaving his clothes where they fell. He braced himself over JD, working at his chest with his teeth, feeling JD's palms running over shoulder and flank, felt wet fingers reaching for his nipples before one of JD's hot, hot hands closed around his cock. Robert worked his way down JD, sliding out of the grip on his dick and stopping to lick at the shaft of JD's cock, wondering what it would taste like to have the head sliding over his tongue. It had been so long, but this was not the moment.

JD pulled up his legs at a light touch from Robert, opening himself so that Robert could get him ready. Robert hadn't touched JD's ass yet, and he was glad he'd saved it, made him wait for it, because the noise and the arch Robert drew from one slick finger sliding in, slow and deliberate, was worth it.

"More," JD said. "Now." Robert pulled out his finger, slid in again with two, and leaned in again to run his tongue up JD's cock, which leapt at the touch. Robert worked both, finding JD's gland and making him moan. It didn't take long before JD panted out, "God. Now. Please." Robert reached for the condom, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled it on, one-handed. He picked up the bottle and squirted lube messily on his cock. He pulled his fingers out of JD, spread the mess over the condom, and wasted no time in positioning himself, lifting JD's hips, and sliding in.

He wanted it to be slow, to learn what JD liked inside the same way he'd mapped his skin, but JD's thighs gripped his ribs, leveraging himself to meet Robert's thrusts, and there was no more slow, no more deliberate, just the word _Fuck_ in the air, two voices repeating until words were impossible.

Robert came back to himself braced over JD, arms and shoulders starting to tremble from the effort. He was about to say, _That was incredible_ , except the platitude was not enough, and JD said, "Wow. Okay. I need you to move now." Robert slid back, and without his support, JD's legs flopped, boneless, to the bed. Robert went to the bathroom, and took care of the necessary. He grabbed a towel, ran one end under the faucet to get it damp. When he came back to the bedroom, JD hadn't moved.

Robert lay down next to him, head propped on one hand, looking at JD's face. He reached over and smoothed the long hair, and JD opened his eyes. Robert said, "Like that?"

"Fuck, yes."

"Stay for breakfast and we can do it again."

JD reached up and touched Robert's face, a flicker of something passing across his expression. "You do that to me again," JD said, "and I won't be able to walk. Besides, they said it was going to start snowing again. I need to get going if I'm going to get a cab to take me back to my car." JD grabbed the towel from Robert, and Robert sat up to help him wipe off the lube.

When they were done, JD rolled to his feet and started pulling on his clothes. Robert wanted to say something, but he didn't know what, and he wasn't going to ask JD twice if he would stay. He had his answer. He should be fine with it, but he wasn't. "I'll give you a lift," Robert said, and started for his own clothes.

JD said, "Okay," and Robert could feel the hesitation. He remembered how he'd felt over the last year when the other men--and he could not help but think of them now as Sunny's fish--had all tried to push for more from him. Robert didn't want JD to feel pressured, especially when Robert wasn't sure what he wanted.

To make it lighter he said, "Save you cab fare," and thumped JD lightly on the back. He pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, and drove JD back to a small SUV sitting among a few other cars left in the Sphinx's parking lot. He put a hand on JD's thigh. "See you next week?"

JD smiled. "You bet."

It started to snow on the way home, and Robert turned on his wipers. The passenger seat felt empty, and when he got back to his apartment, he stayed up late with a beer and the remote, falling asleep in front of the TV. Only the next morning did he realize he hadn't learned anything about JD that mattered.

 

 

 

The next week at Sphinx, he waited at the bar until JD came in. Robert led him straight to the back room, backed him against the wall of one of the booths, and went down to his knees. He wasn't sure what had gotten hold of him, but when he'd got JD hard, Robert held his cock against his face for a few moments, listening to the noises of other people having sex in the booths around them. Robert hadn't given a blow job since Raoul had left, but he was sure he'd remember how. He made himself roll a condom down JD's cock, even though he wanted to taste and feel everything. JD was hot, always, and Robert never lost the impression of fever. JD had never suggested they skip safer sex, which made Robert wonder if he were HIV positive, or worse. If he was, it seemed JD was determined not to infect anyone else. Robert put the thought out of his mind, worked up some saliva, and went to work with the intent of bringing JD off, hard and fast.

JD stopped Robert with a hand on his face. "Take it slower. I want to watch you."

Robert looked up, and JD's dark eyes caught some of the dim light, glittering for a moment. JD slid his hand into Robert's hair, guiding him back down. Robert took JD's cock as far down his throat as he could, not easing himself into it, but pushing beyond the gag, moving his tongue as best he could, and then pulling back with as much suction as he could muster. JD gasped when Robert pulled free, and then watched, his breath hitching as Robert wet his finger in his mouth, slid it up into JD's ass, and sucked down on his cock again as he crooked the end of his finger forward to find JD's prostate.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, Jesus," JD said, his ass tightening on Roberts finger in rhythm with Robert's mouth on his cock. "Slow down."

Robert took JD's hand out of his hair, licked it and guided it to JD's cock to follow the rhythm of his mouth, trying to get the condom wet enough for JD to continue stroking. He went to work on JD's balls, sucking each into is mouth, tonguing behind them as far as he could, his finger circling gently inside JD's ass. The noises JD made could probably be heard across the entire back room, and they were getting to Robert. He reached to adjust himself, grabbing his own erection through his jeans.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," JD said, and Robert moved his mouth up to JD's cock and matched JD's strokes as he came with his ass clamping down on Robert's finger. "Damn," JD whispered.

Robert stood after a moment, and when JD had his breath back, Robert pulled off the condom and tugged JD's leather jeans back into place. He leaned his shoulder against the wall of the booth next to JD, then bent to kiss JD's neck, open mouthed and licking, tasting the sweat and not able to stop himself from pressing his hard cock against JD's hip.

JD huffed a single laugh, tucked everything back and zipped up, and then went to his knees next to Robert. "My turn." Robert opened his pants and shoved them down his thighs, turning himself over to JD's hot mouth, his slick hand. When JD slid a finger back toward his ass, Robert tensed. He'd had nothing in his ass in five years, but this was JD, who didn't want anything from him but pleasure. This was just a finger, not the oil-greased handle of a wrench. This was the backrooms at Sphinx and he'd brought JD here, not the garage next to an unlit parking lot where he'd been dragged by two men with a knife.

"Am I boring you?" JD said.

Robert realized JD had stopped moving, that his dick was hanging sideways in JD's hand. As Robert watched, JD held his gaze and took Robert's cock slowly down his throat "No," Robert gasped. "Not bored at all. Go for it." He shifted as much as he could to give JD better access, and waited for it, trying to relax. After so long without anyone touching him there, JD's hot, slick finger hurt, but Robert forced himself to push back as he watched JD's mouth slide back and suck down again. It didn't take long before enough of JD's finger hit him _there_. Robert's eyes closed with the shock of long-forgotten pleasure, and he felt the noise leave his throat, heard it sound high, surprised, and needy in his own ears.

He grew in JD's mouth. He felt huge and full. He tried to rut, tried to control himself, failed at both, hips stuttering between the heat of JD's mouth and the electricity from the pressure of JD's finger. He groaned loud, almost a shout, and came so hard that his knees buckled and he had to catch himself with his hands against the walls of the booth.

JD slid back, slid his finger out, and rose off the floor to put his arms around Robert, holding him up. He asked "You okay?" Robert could only nod. JD held on a few moments more until Robert could stand back, pull up his jeans, and speak. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but how could he say _Thank you_ and have it be anywhere enough? What came out was, "Wanna dance?"

JD reached out and cupped Robert's chin. "You do like to do things backwards."

Half an hour later, Sunny came up to Robert when JD had gone to the men's room and Robert was getting beers. Sunny wore something with scarves, ragged hems and a pair of platform heels. "What do you think? Did I get her right? Other than the hair, I mean."

"You got me," Robert said. "No clue."

"Stevie Nicks!" Sunny said with his fists on his hips.

"Oh. Right. Why are you stuck in the Eighties lately?" Robert asked. "I liked your Jackie Kennedy period better. You could really work the pillbox."

Sunny grinned, but didn't answer. Instead he said, "You two are so smoking, they don't need fog machines. Why don't you take him home already?"

Robert grinned back at him, "'Cause we already got off."

"So those aren't _fuck me_ hips, they're _just fucked_ hips. You have an extra slink, though. Did you let him top?" Robert shook his head, thinking only Sunny would ask, unwilling to tell him what had happened. It was his, his own, getting back a pleasure he had thought lost. "Well," said Sunny, missing what Robert wasn't saying, "everyone in a ten foot radius from you two has a boner."

"Should make your night easy," Robert said.

Sunny glared, but his expression smoothed quickly as JD came up behind Robert and leaned his chin on Robert's shoulder, reaching down the bar for his beer. "It's Miss Stephanie Nicks. Weren't you blond last time I saw you?" JD asked before leaning back to sip.

"See, he gets it," Sunny said.

Robert hadn't known Stevie Nicks was a Stephanie, and thought it was odd that JD did. Maybe old movies and old music fit together. _Miss Stephanie Nicks_ sounded archaic. All Robert said was, "You two haven't met?"

Sunny looked at Robert. "You don't let anyone else near him." Robert could read more easily the jealousy that Sunny had tried to hide when they met at Jinx. It surprised him.

Robert felt a shift behind him, a tension, and he wished he could see JD's expression. Instead he reached up and back to touch JD's face, and said, "Just keeping each other happy enough for the moment." He felt more than that, maybe, but he wasn't sure yet. He still hadn't thought about it.

 

 

 

Robert pulled the Rockies hat out of his suitcase and set it on his head. He checked it in the hotel room mirror. The hat combined with his polo shirt and chinos like it belonged there, just worn enough to be genuine. He'd spent the last hour in his room, reading the latest Sports Illustrated and searching on Google, reading up on certain military aircraft. Time to head out to the sports bar for the post-meeting outing with the prospective clients. He had to put together the visual cues that made them comfortable.

At the bar it wasn't hard to find the two gray haired middle managers and the senior engineer with the recent hair plugs to rebuild his receding hair line. "Hey," the engineer called up. "You made it."

"Oh, yeah. What's the score?" Robert said, pulling up a chair. These three would be make the recommendations to the guys in charge of purchasing. They'd had a regular meeting earlier in the day, but Robert wasn't there to sell them anything. He needed to find out more about them, so the real sales guys could do their jobs better.

He stuck to beer, drank it slowly, and watched how they talked, what they said, and how they said it. He had enough from the Sports Illustrated to be able to talk the current talk.

Eventually he said to one of the older guys, "You were a pilot, right?" It wasn't a difficult thing to read.

"Yep," the guy answered, looking at the television.

"Helicopters, right? Ever fly one of the old Blackhawks?" Robert asked. He was pretty sure from the little tells that the guy had been a chopper pilot.

"Oh, yeah. In combat." He pointed a thumb at the other older man and added, "He was fixed wing. He knows more about the stuff your company makes." Robert didn't correct him, that it was a client who made the aircraft and Robert's company supplied special marketing support. The guy was staring at the TV, not thinking about combat, and not thinking about what he'd seen. It didn't take someone with Robert's talents to see that. He knew from experience, the best way to get past that was to ask technical questions about flying.

With Robert's encouragement, the two pilots started telling stories. After his second beer, the engineer started chiming in on changes made over the years to the aircraft they were talking about, what he thought were improvements, and what didn't work.

Robert sipped his beer, asked questions, and when the conversation moved from aviation to women, Robert kept his pronouns in check.

Back in the hotel room, he stayed up to write his report while the night was still fresh in his mind. The client's sales team coming in next week was going to have all the ammunition they needed to target these guys.

 

 

 

He woke in the hotel room, face down on the mattress, legs spread and hips cocked back, the remains of his dream nothing but a mess in his shorts. JD had been fucking him, a JD with tattoos that reached further down his arms, circling his fingers with script. A JD with older hands, short hair, but still JD, and it had been a good dream. Robert caught his breath and checked the clock, then bolted out of the hotel bed. The alarm hadn't gone off, and there was no way he could make the morning flight. The next plane out of Huntsville to Dallas wasn't until 6:00 that night, and with the change in Dallas, he wouldn't be back home until well after 11:30, Springs time. Damn, but he'd hoped to be at Sphinx by then, with JD. He was probably going to be too tired to go out when he landed.

Robert pulled off his shorts, used them to wipe himself clean, and re-set the alarm for 10:00. He intended to sleep in and change his flight when he got up, but his mind started wandering, imagining JD at Sphinx with him not there. It would be the first Saturday they'd missed each other in months, and Robert wondered what JD would do. He felt a surge of possessiveness at the idea of someone else feeling that incredible mouth, someone else's cock deep in the heat of JD's ass.

And then there was the dream. Until this morning, Robert hadn't been able to imagine any person fucking him. The dreams he told his therapist about had all been the sense of something in his ass, but no person, no breath, no noise. This morning he'd dreamed a JD with his entire skin covered in words Robert couldn't read, a JD there with every sensation--hot breath panting on his neck, the slipping noise of lube with the feel of every thrust, and JD's heat in and around him.

Robert gave up on sleep, changed his flight and went to the hotel gym until he had just enough time to take a shower and pack before checkout. He killed the afternoon at a movie before getting to the airport in plenty of time. When he landed, about 11:15 local time, he was tired, groggy from the half-nap he'd had on the second leg of the flight. He turned on his phone, and there was a message from Sunny. Damn. He was going to miss him when he moved to Atlanta. Who else was he going to annoy over eggs on Sunday mornings? The message said, `where r u`

`just landed` He was about to add that he was going home, but another message came from Sunny.

`tb here in leather` Tattoo Boy. The phone beeped again. `blond on chase`

That clinched it. Robert wasn't dressed for the Sphinx in the jeans and college sweatshirt he wore for traveling. Maybe he could do something with what he had in his suitcase. `c u there` he sent. `1 hr` He changed into his suit in the airport men's room, and tucked his tie in the pocket to let JD think he'd come straight from work, not able to stay away. The doorman at Sphinx gave him a funny look, but took his money. Robert went past the bar, to the dance floor, and found JD dancing with a blond man. He was wearing the leather jeans and an open shirt, his tattoos flashing out from under deep blue silk. Robert came up behind them, put his hands on JD's back and turned him round.

JD looked startled for a moment, and then smiled. Robert had seen sarcastic grins, seen JD's lips twist in amusement, but not the smile that said, _I'm happy to see you_. It was dazzling, and Robert was glad he had come. "Looks like I'm going to get laid after all," JD said, cutting under, deflating Robert's response to the smile. Robert kept his hand on JD's flank, moving with the music, moving with JD. For all that they'd been fucking for months, Robert felt the need to stake a claim, cut out the competition, and being here in his work clothes would give a suggestion of domesticity. JD went with it, and Robert felt something settle in his chest. He knew it wasn't real, probably was a product of being travel weary, but he couldn't help it. He slid his hands up JD's shirt, thumbed his nipples in the way he knew JD liked, and thought, _Mine_.

As the music changed, Robert let JD lead him off the dance floor, but stopped when he saw they were heading to the back rooms. JD looked at him with his eyebrows raised, but Robert said, "I want more."

"What do you want?"

Robert leaned in and licked the sweat from JD's neck. "You, in a bed, so wrung out you can't do anything but fall asleep." He punctuated every phrase with a bite or a kiss. "Me having taken you there." JD shuddered and leaned into Robert's mouth. "Us waking up together and fucking so slow it'll take an hour to come." Robert palmed up JD's arm and around the back of the neck, and kissed him on the mouth. "Come home with me. Stay the night. I want to do more."

JD shook his head, one small slow movement. "I snore."

It wasn't the reason. Robert could read the lie of omission, and he wanted to know what it was JD wasn't saying. "You won't stay over at my place. What about yours?"

"There's Mitchell."

The warmth in Robert's chest went hollow, and he dropped his head, his hand going slack on JD's shoulder. So JD had a partner at home all this time. He'd seen something in JD, a flash that came through with that single name, and even though Robert was tired, some things were easy to see. JD loved this Mitchell, whoever he was. Robert snorted. Sometimes it sucked to be able to read people.

JD put his fingers under Robert's chin and pushed his head back. "Not that your offer isn't tempting, but maybe we could take a rain check for another day."

"What about Mitchell?" Robert heard his own voice sound flat and guarded.

"She can find her own firestick," JD grinned.

 _She?_ It took Robert a few seconds to remember how he'd met JD, the woman who had bought him the beer four or five months ago in the video bar. JD hadn't ever mentioned her, but it wasn't like Robert and JD spent any time talking. "You mean Cammie?"

JD rolled his eyes in an eloquent _Duh_. "You okay with her being there?"

The tension in Robert's shoulder's shifted. He wasn't sure what JD meant. "In the house?"

"Probably in the bed, watching. Kibitzing when she knows you better. It's a big bed. You'll have plenty of room to do _more_."

Robert wasn't sure how to summarize his reaction, so he said, "That's... different. I thought she was your business partner."

"She is. We live together, too. Share a bed." JD leaned in and nosed his way under the white collar of Robert's dress shirt. "Right now I just want you to fuck me, but I'm pretty sure that coming home with me next time will be a very good idea." JD's fingers trailed across Robert's belly, hot and teasing through the dress shirt.

"I'm really not into girls," Robert managed to say.

"Not an issue, but I'm not kicking her out of her own bed."

"Could we, you know, use a guest room maybe?"

JD pulled back and looked at Robert. "It is what it is. You want more of me, that's part of it."

"But not tonight," Robert said, feeling like he had a reprieve from dealing with whatever Cammie Mitchell meant to JD.

"I'd rather not spring it on her tonight," JD said. Robert read something in JD's delivery--concern, and a sense that there was a bigger reason tonight was not good than the general problem of springing something on her. JD leaned back in, fingering the lapel of Robert's suit jacket. "So, do you want to go back to your place and practice?"

Robert didn't want JD to come home, not if he wouldn't stay. He suddenly felt the weight of the day. "You've got places to go."

"And people to do," JD said, his grin wicked. "Let's fuck, Mr. Businessman."

Robert didn't want to say no. They found an empty booth, and JD wasted no time opening Robert's fly, reaching in and pulling out his cock with sure, hot fingers. Robert felt himself lengthening under the touch, and he reached for JD's button and zipper, opening the jeans and sliding them down over JD's ass. JD reached before they slid too far, and pulled a small packet with lube from his pocket. They stood, not kissing, with their foreheads together, and their breathing getting shallower as they stroked each other hard. Robert opened his mouth, tasting the sweat and the smell of sex that permeated Saturday night in the back rooms. He'd been here a dozen times or more before he started seeing JD, and he remembered a round ass under his hands, his hands in the short hair of a boy, of a lot of boys with different hair, or the bodybuilder who sobbed when Robert fucked him, came like a bull, and was never seen again. He rarely knew their names, never cared who they were, but this man in front of him, with his tattoos and his fucked up sleeping arrangements and his easy knowledge of old things, a liar and an honest man--he wanted to _know_ more, not just do more.

JD knocked Robert back to the present by pushing the packet of lube into his hands. Robert tore it open, his hands working at the small of JD's back, squeezing it on to a finger and dipping down to slide knuckle deep into JD. JD pushed back, took more, rode Robert's fingers for a few minutes, and Robert thought that JD was heat, and sex, and God, he tasted good as Robert licked across the collar bone and down, nosed under the open shirt to reach one of JD's nipples.

After a few long moments, JD turned himself to face the wall, and Robert wasted no time grabbing a condom from the dispenser and rolling it down, slicking himself with the lube on his fingers and the bit left in the packet. He pushed into JD with another surge of the possessiveness he'd felt on the dance floor, feeling JD's heat surround his cock, radiate onto his chest through their shirts. They rocked together a few moments, Robert's hands on JD's hips, JD with his palms bracing himself against the wall, pushing back and demanding. Robert slid his hands up JD's flanks, across the traps and down his arms, leaning against his back as his their hips moved in perfect rhythm. _Mine_ , Robert thought, pulling his tie from the pocket of his suit jacket, wrapping his hands around JD's forearms, sliding down so that he held him by the wrists for a moment. He started to loop the tie around, possession rather than bondage.

JD stopped moving, stood up and jerked his hands out of Robert's grip, the tie dropping to the floor. "Don't." The word came out in a twist of sound, and Robert pulled out. JD was suddenly vibrating, a barely visible shiver that he was fighting to control, nearly succeeding.

Robert didn't put his arms around him, just rested his hands on JD's hips for a moment, and then worried that it was too solid a touch. He had to get this right, couldn’t fuck it up. He stepped back so JD wouldn't feel crowded, and started stroking down JD's thigh, across his back and arms. He had a very good idea of just what he'd triggered, and Robert didn't understand the mix of ache and strange joy he felt in response, but he felt for the first time in years like he was not alone. He said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push that button. You okay?"

JD said, "Sure," but he didn't nod, didn't turn. He reached for Robert's hands and pulled them around his waist, leaning back on Robert's chest. Robert was sweating in the warmth of the booth, feeling JD fever hot on his chest through three layers--JD's shirt, and the dress shirt and the T-shirt Robert wore. He wished he could take off his suit jacket, but this wasn't the time to think about himself.

"What do you need?" Robert asked JD. This was something he couldn't read exactly, but it was something he knew too well. Offering anything specific would be wrong. JD needed to control what happened next, and Robert was only too willing to let him. JD could go if he needed, or they could stand and listen to the two next door with their chorus of, "Oh, God, yes. Oh, God, yes."

Robert was surprised when JD shifted, reaching back to stroke Robert back to full hard again, adjusting them so that Robert's cock slid back in. JD leaned back on Robert's chest, and Robert leaned himself against the wall half a foot behind him, knees bent awkwardly to keep the angle comfortable for both him and JD. He tried not to think about what he was getting on his suit from the wall. He didn't move, didn't try to thrust, just let himself be wrapped in JD's heat, ignoring the ache building in his calf muscles, because being able to give JD what he wanted was more important. He reached under JD's shirt, palming over the warm muscle, following the outlines of the ink he had memorized. JD took one of Robert's hands and led it down. They wrapped fingers together around JD's softened length, stroking together until JD was hard and started to move his hips. Robert let JD take what he wanted, answering his thrusts only when JD made a noise of frustration, holding them up with the arch of his back and the strain building in his legs, but whispering once, "It's okay. I've got you."

JD curled forward when he came, and Robert held him with one hand around his waist, the other cradling JD's cock, holding still and letting JD control the friction. Robert's body trembled with the effort of the position, but he was determined that he would not let JD fall. He hadn't meant to hurt JD, but he'd learned something. Robert knew that JD would understand him in a way Raoul never could.

JD slid himself free, turned and took the condom off Robert, and tossed it in the garbage can in the hall outside the booth. The mundane action jolted Robert back, and he stood up and tried to flex his legs without it being obvious, feeling odd, fully dressed with his cock sticking out of his slacks. JD pulled up his jeans, fished out another packet of lube, squeezed half of it into his palm, and stepped close to Robert. He leaned his head on Robert's shoulder and began to stroke his cock. Robert let him, let his mind wander to thinking about JD stretched out on the bed, Robert mapping his body with teeth and tongue, JD incoherent with need and want. Then the image was JD fucking him deeply. It rose unbidden, but the reminder of his dream, the memory of JD's finger in his ass, sent Robert over, thrusting up into JD's hot, slick hand, coming hard and wanting more.

JD pulled paper towels from the roll to clean his hand and Robert's cock, trying to get the excess lube and spilled semen off the fabric of Robert's trousers. "Sorry about that," JD said, as Robert tucked himself in and zipped, feeling the wool damp with lube, then looked at JD, not sure what to say. JD spoke again, "Probably ready for the cleaners anyway."

Robert stepped close and kissed JD, no other touch but a press of lips that JD answered. If he read this right, now was the moment to talk. "Nothing to be sorry for," he said, meaning the clothes and the so very contained way JD had freaked out. Robert swallowed and made himself say it. "For what it's worth, I was raped about five years ago." JD snorted and dropped his head. "Hey," Robert said, putting a hand on JD's arm. "Whatever it was, you can talk or not, but I won't do anything like that to you again."

JD stepped back, and Robert held back his urge to follow, to stay close. JD said, "I'm fine."

"Okay." Robert let the lie go, wanting so much to pull JD to him, but he could tell he needed to wait. Robert wanted to be the person for JD that he hadn't had himself, someone who _got it_.

"I gotta go," JD said, and Robert moved to make sure he wasn't blocking the door, but he put a hand on JD's sleeve in a polite request for him to pause. JD turned. "What?"

Robert handed JD one of his business cards. "I'd like to have dinner with you." He felt brave asking.

JD looked at the card, then up at Robert. Robert read conflict in JD's expression--a need to flee, amusement, tension, gratitude. "You really fucking do things backward, don't you?"

Robert watched JD move down the hall, and stood in the booth for a long moment. The _Oh, God, yes_ pair were gone, replaced by a voice growling, "Suck it, bitch." It made Robert feel ill, but he kept himself from slugging the guy through the curtain. He picked his crumpled tie from the floor and stumbled to the main bar for a beer. He leaned on the bar and let the noise and rhythm of the music wash over him, deliberately not thinking. He closed his eyes and drank deeply from his glass.

"Tattoo Boy gone already?" Sunny asked. Robert nodded, not looking up. "You're a mess," Sunny said. "You look like you just tried to do the Armani marathon. That stuff is not made for sport."

Robert glanced over. Sunny had a pair of oversized sunglasses holding back his hair, a white A-line skirt, and a pale blue twinset. "Jackie O, mid nineteen eighties?" Robert asked.

Sunny half-bowed. "So, you've never answered me. What's with you two? Exclusive, or can I play through?"

Robert drained his beer, not in the mood for Sunny's teasing. After tonight, there was no way he'd let Sunny near JD. "Song Yang," Robert said, using Sunny's real name. "Don't be an asshole." Robert put his glass down on the bar and glanced over. Sunny looked smug, which was the last thing Robert expected. After half a second he realized what Sunny was doing. He was trying to make Robert think about it by annoying him, since the direct route hadn't worked at Jinx, or any other time Sunny had asked. Robert stood and put a hand on Sunny's long hair, and leaned to kiss him on the forehead.

"See you tomorrow for brunch?" Sunny said.

"Noon?" Robert asked.

Sunny nodded. "Our last one," he said.

"Not thinking about it," Robert said, not looking at Sunny as he turned to go. Time enough to think about it on Sunday.

When Robert got to his Audi, he slid behind the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, and stopped moving. Robert dropped his hand and leaned back, thinking over what had just happened with JD, wondering how he would write a report if JD were an assignment for work.


	2. Chapter 2

Robert drew a blank. He was probably just tired, he thought, and then the phrase that had run through his head in the booth struck him. _A liar and an honest man_. Where had that come from? Robert thought back. The easy lie was JD saying he was fine when he clearly wasn't, but that was too common to note. What had he seen to make him think JD, at his core, lied?

Robert played back the last few months, trying to spot what it was. It was the first night, when he'd asked JD if he were a pilot, and JD had said no so quickly. Robert started the car, drove home, and woke up his computer.

Time to do what he'd been holding off doing, and search for JD's information.

"J. D. Neilson" didn't turn up anything that looked right in the first few pages. He tried to remember what that Mitchell woman had said they did. Software. Searching "neilson+software" brought up the biography page from their company on neilsonmitchell.com, and a full name--Jonathan Daniel Neilson. Military brat, whiz-kid, slightly older than he looked. Cameron Evangeline Mitchell (Evangeline?) had a Master's degree, and had left the Air Force at the rank of Colonel. Robert poked around the site, and found little that was useful. The nature of the software they made was obscure, which meant military or security. The company webpage read like the kind of truthful misinformation he was used to reading around on MITRE's public documents. It had that feel of _If you knew what we did, you wouldn't need the web page; and if you need to look at our web page, you probably don't need what we do_.

He poked harder and used the databases his company paid for so he could do intensive background research on sales targets. He wasn't above using it for selfish reasons. Neilson's credit was solid gold, and there were the court records of his emancipation as a minor. Robert searched further, but it was too clean. There were no embarrassing MySpace pages, no message board posts associated with his name, no associated or suspected nicknames, nothing. JD had left a very light footprint on the net, which was surprising for a precocious computer genius unless he was security conscious from before puberty. Robert decided that was probably it. Maybe JD read Cory Doctorow's book Little Brother at the right impressionable time. JD was cautious, but Robert already knew that.

Cammie was another story. There was plenty to find about her on the web. Colonel Cameron Mitchell had been awarded a Medal of Honor but the story of why was not public. Records showed she was injured in a crash during a training mission in Nevada, which Robert knew was probably bullshit. Beyond that, there were typical internet signs of her up until shortly after she joined the Air Force, including her placement in several genealogies centered around North Carolina. Robert almost passed by those until he noted the number of military, and the number of dead, going back through the generations. This was a family that took service as a core value.

She still posted to a knitting blog called Ravelry, and had done since college, but that was the last place she was active under her name. There were long stretches when she didn't post, but she'd been posting infrequently, but regularly, in the last five or six years.

A knitting black ops pilot software... something. Robert wouldn't be surprised if she could cook, too, but he wasn't sure about that crash in Nevada. "Training mission" was a typical euphemism for secret experimental aircraft that fucked up. He had contacts. He could find out. Bottom line was that she probably had security clearances coming out her ears, which mean JD did, too.

Robert sent an email to an old friend, asking about Cameron Mitchell, and checked the clock. It was after 4:00 AM, and he had every reason to be exhausted, so he took himself to bed.

 

Wednesday afternoon he came back from his debriefing with the client's sales team to find an email waiting for him. He didn't recognize the username, but it had passed the spam filter.

` To: robert.brian@amscorp.com`  
From: twopointoh@hushmail.com  
Date: March22, 2013, 15:12  
Subject: dinner

` mitchell has made it abundantly clear that if I don't invite you to dinner i will be subject to tofu dishes for a week. she has requested we eschew the delights of the sphinx on saturday, in favor of a family meal chez nous. repondez, si'l vous plait, just to stay with the french for a moment, and directions to our place are appended in the form of a portable document formatted file. 19:00. early enough that we can go out after if you want.`

` yrs`

` jdn`  
  
Robert looked at the email. He and JD hadn't exactly talked much, but this wasn't how he imagined JD would sound. Robert had intended to take JD out somewhere, some place neutral and upscale, where they could get to know each other better and would have to keep their hands off each other. Sure, he wanted to spread JD out and wreck him again, but Robert felt there was something more developing between them, something Robert thought he maybe wanted. Being invited to dinner at JD's house? That was a bigger step than Robert could have hoped for. He'd get to know Cammie, too, get a read on her and their relationship so he could understand it, figure out how he might fit in.

He'd already looked up their address on Google maps, but he brought it up again. It was a big place out in the county, with enough land around it that he was surprised there wasn't also a barn. The satellite view showed forest close to the house. A property search told him the house was about 100 years old, and they'd bought it a few years ago. The history of building permits pointed to an extensive renovation and additions. Banking and credit searches showed only a standard mortgage on the property, and no additional loans to pay for the work. Nothing indicated they had family money, so software must have been very good to them.

He hit Reply to JD's email.

` To: twopointoh@hushmail.com`  
From: robert.brian@amscorp.com  
Date: March 22, 2013, 16:48  
Subject: Re: dinner

` Hey, JD.`

` Je repond q'il serai mon plaisir, or so Babelfish tells me I do. Anything to save you from the horrors of tofu. See you Saturday.`

` Robert`

` --`  
Robert J. Brian  
Marketing Associate  
Aviation Marketing Services Corporation 

Robert grabbed his phone and tapped out a message to Sunny. `got dinner invite`, he wrote, and went back to work. About half an hour later, his phone beeped.

`tb?`

Robert smiled and sent back, `no`, and then `queen of England`.

`getting srius`, Sunny sent back.

There wasn't a question mark, and Robert wasn't sure how to read it. Sunny had left just a few days ago. Maybe he was still jealous, but Robert was sure he'd find plenty of new fish. `He texted back, how's ATL?`"

`flat`, came the answer, and then `bye`.

 

Thursday's email brought another surprise.

`To: robert.brian@amscorp.com`  
From: upnaway94@msn.yahoo.com  
Date: March 23, 2013, 14:08  
Subject: Re: Question for you

` Yo, Bobby-boy. You're funny when you try to talk military. There are clams that keep their mouths closed tighter than the people I've asked. "Cameron Mitchell is a hero, son." That's what they say, and nothing more. I have a sinking feeling that doing you a favor has just put a pinhole in my career prospects. Good thing I wasn't planning to stay in. You may need to get me a job when I get out.`

` Jim`

` > Robert Brian wrote:`  
>  
> Hey Jim. Long time no, and all that.  
>  
> I know I'm not supposed to make any guesses about where you are, but you might be  
> able to tell me about someone. Major Cameron Mitchell. How did she really get that  
> last piece of chest candy?  
>  
> Robert 

Robert thought that settled the experimental craft question, and the fact that he might have hurt Jim's career bothered him. Jim only used Bobby-boy when he wanted to annoy Robert, so he might have been joking. It was hard to tell.

 

Robert pulled into the drive. JD's place had that old ranch house look, and the renovations mostly showed in the lack of decay. JD came out the door and across the porch, wearing nothing but a pair of cut off shorts and shoes he could slide out of. Robert stepped out of his car holding the bottle of wine, hesitated over whether to grab the bag he'd packed, and decided to leave it. He was nervous, as well-armed as he could be on their histories, anxious to make a good impression, and unsure of what he was walking into. He'd figure it out, settle down eventually, but this felt like an important client meeting.

JD stepped down from the porch and met him on the walk. He seemed perfectly comfortable wearing nothing but shorts in the chill of early Spring. "Hi."

"Thanks for the invitation. I was planning on taking you to the Pepper Tree, but this is nice," Robert said.

JD whistled softly. "Pepper Tree? That's a date night place."

Date night was an expression Robert's parents would have used. "I thought this was a date."

"I suppose it is, but Mitchell's a better cook, and don't tell her I said that," JD said. "You want to grab your bag?"

Robert had that feeling in his chest again. It sounded like he'd just been asked to spend the night, but he didn't want to presume. He handed the bottle of wine to JD, and flipped the driver's seat forward so he could get his bag from the back. "I packed clothes for Sphinx if you still want to go out later."

"Toothbrush, too?" JD ushered him up to the front door, tapped a keypad, and let Robert in.

Robert had another moment's warmth, but then he was distracted by the keypad. It fit with his conclusion that JD was security conscious, but who locked the door behind themselves meeting a guest on the front porch? He heard JD on another keypad behind him, and Robert vaguely wondered what would happen if he tried to leave. He had several impressions coming in at once--the security, the smell of something delicious and familiar, and then the interior. He had to keep himself from whistling. The renovations had taken out walls without removing any of the charm of a house that old. He was looking at an open living room with personality radiating from the choices of art, the arrangement of furniture into distinct sitting areas, the hand-made things over the backs of couches. There were books everywhere.

The first impression was money, a lot of it, and new, from the high-end flooring to the video wall. Software had indeed been very good to them. Second was family, from a few choice photographs to the sheer ugliness of one of the throws. It had to be from family, because anyone who would make this space would not choose those colors, so it probably ruled out Cammie Mitchell as the maker. Okay, middle class stock made good, but it hadn't gone to their heads. He was struck by the functionality, how despite the fact that the money was new, and the taste behind the design was excellent, and nothing here was for show. If any of the books were unread, it was only because someone hadn't gotten to them, yet. This was a home of people who cared about comfort and satisfying their curiosity. Robert wondered if Cammie was the reader, thinking first that JD didn't seem like the type, but then he remembered the things JD would say that were just off kilter, a little dated, and wondered if he'd got it all from books.

JD followed him in, and opened a coat closet. "I'll stash this here for now," he said, putting the duffle bag inside, and taking Robert's coat. "One house rule. Leave nothing on the floor. Shoes here."

Robert nodded, remembering Cammie's "training crash" and her cane. The floor rule might not have occurred to him, but when JD said it, it made sense. He toed off his shoes and left them out of the way with the line of shoes under a bench.

"Come on in." JD said. Robert noticed that JD was ushering him, keeping Robert in front.

Cammie stepped out from the door to the kitchen, cane in hand and using it like she needed it, like it was as familiar as her own legs. "Nice meetin' you again, Robert Brian."

She offered her hand to Robert. He shook it and said, "Nice to be here. Thank you for having me." In the back of his mind he was ready for her to behave like the other test pilots he'd met, remote observers to a man, but he'd forgotten the woman he'd met in the back bar of the Sphinx. He'd been thinking of a test pilot with tits, with extra ball busting because of her gender, but her presence was something different, something warmer. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of a sheep covered in balls of yarn instead of wool, seemingly relaxed at meeting her partner's lover.

Robert stumbled in his own mind over the word lover, but he didn't miss that she'd done this before, that the friendliness held reserve, and if Cammie shared JD's bed, she must have done more than welcome them into her living room. Robert didn't like the surge of jealousy at the thought, so he said, "It smells wonderful."

"Thanks. Startin' with wild rice soup, then trout baked with leeks. Hope you like fish."

"I love trout, and I haven't had wild rice soup in years," Robert said. "My mom used to make it." It probably meant they'd done a search on him, and knew he was from Minnesota.

Cammie smiled again. "We'll see how mine stacks up."

"Can I get you something to drink?" JD asked.

"Anything's fine," Robert said. "Whatever you're having."

"Beer for the moment," JD said. Cammie turned back to the kitchen, and JD stood aside and gestured so as to indicate that Robert should follow. The kitchen was half the size of the living room, and Robert took in the professional level furnishings, from stainless steel counters to a six burner stove. He'd been in houses where the high end appliances were for show, but that wasn't the case here. There was an elevator on the far wall, but that made sense, given Cammie's cane. JD reached into one side of the big refrigerator and brought out two bottles. "Glass, or barbarian style."

"Like you know how to be anything but barbaric," Cammie said.

"Bottle's fine," Robert said, watching Cammie move back to the stove, and JD move around her, getting their beers, and then plates and bowls that he stacked next to the stove. He pointed Robert toward a set of stools, and reached into the other side of the refrigerator for a plate of cheese and fruit and set it down. Their movements seemed like a dance, well rehearsed, each with an intuitive sense of the other's position and movement. It was beautiful and disconcerting.

Robert found himself shifting into the mode he used for work, disconnected and observing, working to say the right things to get other people to reveal themselves. It almost worked. JD and Cammie were using "company manners," but the layers underneath were different, deeper than Robert was used to.

There was no one thing he could put his finger on. On one level, JD and Cammie read like an old married couple hiding the comfortable bickering in front of a guest. Nothing from Cammie read as jealousy. She was certainly a former pilot, and she had all the indicating behaviors of attention to detail in the moment coupled with systems thinking. Watching her move in a kitchen was a dead giveaway, with everything placed for maximum use and convenience, fresh rolls from the oven, perfectly timed. She probably had some engineering training, too, given some of her turns of phrase. JD read almost the same, and Robert wondered if he had picked up the tells from Cammie, since the bio said they'd been working together for over ten years. Nowhere in the bio was there time for JD to have been a military pilot, and he didn't look old enough for the bio to be a lie.

As for Cammie's bio, he wasn't sure what kind of crash would cost her toes, but not leave the cicatrix of burn scars. Robert tried not to look at her feet, but his eyes kept landing on her tattoos and scars, and going down from there. He was starting to wonder if "Nevada" was as much a euphemism as "training flight."

Robert made it through the meal, his head divided like Gaul into three parts. In one he was figuring out what mattered to these people, how to sell to them as if they were client targets. The answer would be to have a quality product, and not pretend it did anything it didn't actually do. In the second part he was trying to make a good impression on Cammie, someone who was important to someone Robert cared about. In the third part, he was trying to make JD think that he was fine with this, that he could talk with Cammie and be comfortable. A fourth part that Robert didn't think of as Gaul, maybe it was Corsica, wasn't sure how he could have sex with JD if Cammie was in the bed, too.

"I left himself in charge of dessert," Cammie said. "That means ice cream."

"I couldn't," Robert said. "It was too good, and I ate too much." JD stood and cleared the plates, and Robert got up to help. When Cammie made a noise of protest, Robert said, "Your mother might not let a guest help, but mine would get me for not pitching in."

"Fine, but all you're allowed to do is carry." Cammie sounded as if she were giving in under protest, but Robert could tell she was more tired than she wanted to let on. "If you'll excuse me for a moment," she said, and levered herself up. "Be right back."

Robert helped clear the table, and when the last dish went into the sink, he came up behind JD, feeling freer to touch him without Cammie there. Robert put his hand on JD's flank, then slid it up to spread his fingers across JD's abs. "At the risk of sounding cheesy," he said, lips on JD's neck, "I know what I want for dessert."

"Cheesy," JD said, but he turned. "House rule: kitchen gets cleaned right away."

Robert leaned in to bite JD's neck. "What can I do to help it go faster."

"Second house rule: Guests don't help. Keep me entertained."

Robert went for the obvious. "Everything I can think of to entertain you would slow down the process."

JD glared at him over his shoulder. "So talk to Mitchell when she gets back. I'll be done in a minute."

"Talk to her about what?"

"Tell her about your job. Ask her about software engineering. You might not want to get into knitting, unless you don't want to have to talk." JD reached back with his bare foot, ran it up Robert's calf, then put it flat on Robert's shin and pushed. "Get off me. Won't take a minute."

Robert ran his hand down JD's spine as he stepped away. Cammie wasn't back yet, so he picked up what was left of his wine and walked out into the living room, over to the high windows, realizing that something about the space didn't fit. It was too dark to see out, but Robert looked at his own reflection, wondering what would happen next.

Movement caught his eye, and he watched Cammie's image as she walked out of the hall and turned toward the kitchen. He turned to follow her, arriving at the door to see her leaning on the counter, looking at JD. JD glanced up as soon as Robert came into the doorway, his face smoothing instantly, and Cammie turned, smiling welcome. Robert was sure he'd interrupted something, even though he hadn't heard their voices. It bumped him back into work mode, and he realized that "company manners" was the least of the changes in their behavior compared to when he wasn't there.

It had been a split second thing, less than an eyebrow, more than a mere glance that changed in JD's face and was gone as Cammie looked back at him before she moved over to the table. Robert couldn't read it, other than to know that they communicated on some level most people wouldn't see. He thought he might get it, eventually. Eventually. He'd have to, if he wanted JD, because as JD had said, Cameron Mitchell was part of the package. Cameron Mitchell was the one who got to see beyond the unaffected-seeming, obscuring cool that JD always showed to Robert.

Robert wasn't sure what he thought about that, and the jealousy he felt was something different that barely deserved the name. He tried to watch without staring as Cammie levered herself slowly back into her chair. Robert followed her to the table and took his seat, aware of how easy it was for him, even days when his legs were sore from skiing and he thought it hurt to move. What she dealt with was something different, something ibuprofen and a few days of rest would never fix. Cammie derailed his thoughts when she said, "Finish 'er off?" and handed him the wine bottle with the last half inch.

"JD?" Robert asked.

"I'm good," JD said, "but if we're going out, I'm driving."

Robert poured half the remaining wine into his glass and turned to Cammie as he set the bottle down. "I haven't seen you at Sphinx since you introduced me to JD. Want to come out with us?"

"Naw," Cammie said, smiling. It was a disarming smile, or it was meant to be. "Don' need to get all dolled an' go out when the two prettiest regulars been right in my kitchen all evenin'."

Robert wanted to fall for it, but there was something else underneath the teasing compliment. He played along and said, "You should have seen Sunny before he moved. He was working his way through Eighties fashion icons."

"He the Asian guy in that Addicted to Love outfit?" Cammie asked. Robert wasn't sure what she meant, and she added, "From the Eighties video?"

"I'm not sure what he was wearing that night," Robert said, surprised she remembered. He only had some vague recollection of spandex and shoulder pads.

JD turned around. "You should see him do Madonna. He's Chinese, but he pulls it off."

"Taiwanese," Robert said, automatically, noting that JD had paid attention to Sunny and his outfits.

"Got a better figure for it than I ever did." Cammie waved a hand, dismissing the subject.

Robert went for the subject that meant he wouldn't have to talk. "Those blankets in the living room. Your work?"

"Two of 'em," Cammie said.

Robert gave her a smile. "I don't want to insult any one, but I think I know which one you didn't do."

"Well," Cammie said slowly, "she did pick a nice soft yarn."

"The stitching looks different on one of the others," Robert said, seeing that no further comment on the one with the riotous color choice would go over well.

"That's 'cause two're blankets, other's an afghan."

"You'll have to tell me the difference."

Cammie let herself be led, answering Robert's questions about the differences between crochet and knitting. When Cammie wound down she said, "An' I still got work to do."

JD said, "For values of work equaling World of Warcraft III."

Cammie arched an eyebrow at Robert. "You see what I put up with?"

"But we like him anyway," Robert said, still looking for navigation markers in this house. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say, but it might work to ally himself with Cammie by saying we, and saying something positive about JD.

Cammie went over to the elevator, and waved as the door shut behind her. JD hung a towel on a rack. "Do you want to go out tonight?" he asked.

"It's early yet," Robert said.

"We don't have to go to Sphinx."

"No, there's always Ginger's," Robert said, "or the Ramrod."

"Hmm, aging drag queens, or a nautical themed leather bar at the edge of the desert," JD said, shaking his head.

"Those leather jeans of yours would fit right in at Ramrod."

JD walked over and put his hands in Robert's hair. "You'd have to be my handsome cabin boy. You're 'way too dandified to make a decent pirate."

Robert leaned into the touch. "I never got dessert." He leaned forward and around to kiss JD at the line of the tattoos ghosting down the side, angling back. He wondered how JD felt about having sex while Cammie worked in the house, wherever it was the elevator led, up or down. He also thought it might be easier to face sleeping with Cammie in the bed if it was familiar already. This seemed like a good chance to find out, but he didn't move. He had too much in his head, too much information from having watched them, but he couldn't make sense of any of it. It wasn't falling easily into place.

"Come on," JD said, and led Robert down the hall, and pushed open a door. There were dim nightlights, clear hardwood floors, and a very large bed. "What exactly would you like for dessert?"

"You," Robert said, because it was expected. He started to look around the room, his professional eye taking the character of the furnishings (simple, elegant, functional), the colors he could see of the curtains, the two nightstands, the door that must lead to a bathroom, the two sets of double closet doors, the hours it must have taken to make the cover on the huge bed. There was love in every stitch and weave, and staring at the colors, he swallowed. Cammie had explained crochet, and on the bed was a broad spread made of squares that had different textures and patterns, made one by one and stitched together in a pattern that wasn't a pattern, the closer he looked, but it worked together. It was beautiful.

"That wasn't very convincing."

JD's voice punched through, and the words were out of Robert's mouth before he knew what he was thinking. "I just don't know how much of you I get to have."

As soon as Robert heard himself say it, his stomach sank. He didn't understand what he wanted, or where he fit, if he could fit. There was no room to add a square to that afghan. Robert closed his eyes, but still saw all the observations of by-play and subtle communication between JD and Cammie at dinner, the tone of JD's voice when he spoke her name, for all the distancing of using surname only--it all came together so that he could finally hear the opening words of the report he would write to his imaginary team. If he were going to try to support the marketing of one Robert Brian to the Neilson-Mitchell household, the opening words would be:

`The only entree into the close relationship between the founders and managing directors is their mismatch in sexual orientation.`

JD's hand was on his shoulder, answering. "You can have as much of me as we both can stand, but Mitchell's part of the deal."

"I don't understand," Robert said, too afraid that he did.

"You don't have to," JD answered, and Robert heard clearly that JD had said it before, or something similar, to someone else. Want JD, get Cammie, too. Very simple. Simple. He could do that. He could do that. What did he need or want from JD, anyway? Uncomplicated sex. They'd probably had more conversation tonight than the previous five months.

Robert took a breath, shook off whatever had come over him, and said, "Let's move this afghan so we don't mess it up."

JD smiled, "So she made you an expert already?" They moved to fold it back, and JD picked it up and placed it it over a stand next to the wall while Robert pulled off his shirt. JD's careful placement of the afghan reminded Robert of the house rule, and he found a clothes horse to hang his shirt before turning to get JD out of his shorts. He was too late. JD was already behind him, reaching around to drape the ragged cut-offs next to Robert's shirt.

JD moved close, mouth ghosting over Robert's neck. "What part of me do you want for desert?"

Robert didn't answer with words. He took off his trousers and laid them over his shirt, his socks on the floor behind the clothes horse, out of the way. He led JD to the bed, pushed him down on his back, and slid up next to him. Robert leaned over to kiss JD, and felt the hot breath of JD opening his mouth. He met JD's tongue with his own, and they touched, slid, danced with their tongues, a contrast from a kiss, because it took place in the cooler air. Robert found himself focused on the strange, hot slide of JD's tongue, unable to go on autopilot.

JD reached out, one of his warm hands wrapping around Robert's shaft, pulling it to hardness. Robert trailed his fingers up JD's thigh and took his cock, stroking and exploring. Robert pushed forward to at least touch lips, and JD bit him. Robert pulled away, pulled his lips out of JD's teeth, and looked down at what he was doing. He focused on the round head of JD's cock emerging from the foreskin, the unveined shaft, and his own fingers curved around and stroking. He glanced from time to time at JD's face, and when he caught JD looking at the same time, they didn't drop gazes until JD slid down, pulling his cock from Robert's grasp and licked in an obscene show of tongue. It was deliberate echo of the kiss-that-wasn't, punctuated by a smile of promise and evil. Robert's breath stopped in his throat, a tight almost-pain in his groin.

"Condoms in the drawer," JD said, before wrapping his mouth sideways around Robert's shaft and sliding. Robert took a deep breath and reached backwards, trying to look over his shoulder to the drawer in the night stand. He found a box, and his fingers didn't stumble as he pulled two out. He handed one to JD who rolled it down Robert's shaft and leaned again to suck. The heat of JD's mouth finally gave Robert something to drown out background noise in his head, and he watched for a moment, carding his fingers through JD's ponytail and resisting the urge to grab his head and push it down.

Robert opened the second condom, and shifted himself over on the bed, pulling JD's thighs until he could get at his cock, covering it and drawing it into his mouth in one motion. He played one hand up the shaft, cradling and rolling JD's balls with the other, and relaxed to enjoy the distractions of sensation. He never got off on a sixty-nine, not unless he stopped what he was doing, and he didn't want to stop. Cock in his mouth, mouth on his cock, male scent and noises, and all was right with the world.

He played his hands over JDs ass and thighs, gripping them, remembering how they felt encased in those leather jeans. JD's hands moved on him, and they were roughly gentle for a few long moments before JD dragged a finger deliberately over Robert's hole. Robert felt himself tense, and JD moved his hands away, but the echo of the touch remained. Robert remembered how it had felt in the club. He moved his head back so he could talk, just long enough to say, "Do it."

JD took him at his word. Robert heard a noise of a drawer opening, the click of a cap flicked open, and then there were JD's knowing fingers, slick and cold. They found everything Robert wanted, everything he had missed for the last five years, better than what he'd felt that night in the back room of Sphinx. He could focus only on fingers and stretching and the deep, shock of pressure on his gland. He couldn't pay appropriate attention to JD in his mouth, and Robert pulled back, stroking with his hand in a spit-wet slide, slowly, intermittently, when he could remember.

Robert groaned when JD took his fingers out and moved around the bed to sit behind him, near his legs. His groan lengthened when JD went back to work, two fingers, this time, gently probing. "You about ready?" JD asked. Robert could feel the bed shift as JD moved to his knees, removing his fingers as he moved, and sliding them back in again when he was settled. "Like this?" he said, pushing Robert toward his stomach.

Robert tensed again. He didn't want to, but it came unbidden. Being bent over like that had too many bad memories. "Hmm. Better idea," JD said immediately, removing his fingers. Robert looked back over his shoulder to see JD wiping his hand on a towel. He had no idea where the towel had come from, and he focused on that as JD lay back next to him, falling behind his line of sight. Robert felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come here. Take what you want."

Robert sat up and turned to face JD, who had laid himself out like he knew how he looked. He was stroking himself, hand slick over the condom, looking directly at Robert, and if there was some ego in the _You want some of this?_ pose, it was well justified. It was the look, though, that took out any distancing arrogance. JD knew what had happened to Robert, and knew that it had been a while. Robert thought JD's expression held compassion without pity, knowledge of who Robert was, and maybe something like forgiveness, but for what, Robert couldn't be sure.

JD reached for Robert's dick, stroking it back hard again with those amazing, hot fingers, as if to say I'm just as happy to get us both off like this. Robert was tired of filling in what JD didn't say, and after what JD had been doing to his ass, he wanted-- Then JD said aloud, "You want to fuck me?" but he didn't move his legs up or roll over, and suddenly Robert got it, and slung a leg over. He reached back to guide JD's slicked cock, and paused. This time the expression in JD's eyes was different. There was nothing knowing, nothing but dark lust, his tongue flicking unconsciously over his lips, and a dew of sweat on his brow.

Robert moved down, watching JD's face as he took him inside, and JD's eyes closed, his mouth going slack with an indrawn breath. Robert paused for his own need to adjust, because fingers were one thing, but this was a blunt, wide force, and he could see JD suddenly trembling, holding back. JD's fingers skated over Robert's thighs as if he wanted to grab them, so Robert slid his hands under JD's to give JD something to hold on to. Robert pushed back, realized he was panting, too, but didn't stop until he had JD as deep as he could go. It hurt, but it was different from the old memory of pain and force, and as they held still for a long moment, the pain of fire gave way to the warmth of need.

He shifted their hands until their palms faced each other, fingers entwined. The grip was tight. He used JD for leverage and bent down to kiss him, wincing slightly at the change in angle. JD's mouth reached up for his, and the first hint of gentleness gave way without warning to teeth and noise, and Robert giving up, giving in, and riding. JD was as good as his word, because for all that his cock was deep in Robert, it was Robert fucking him, Robert making JD's breath do that, Robert in control, taking what he wanted.

He came with JD's hand stroking his bare cock, JD's cock stroking the deep places. It was something more than release, something pouring through a crack, and widening it with the flood. JD held still until Robert pulled himself together. When he could think again, he took JD's hands, placed them on his hips, reached down to brace himself on JD's chest, and said, "Go. Do it." He was relieved when JD didn't ask Are you sure?, relieved when he felt JD's fingers tighten, and relieved when JD thrust up into him. Robert watched JD's face, framed by hair glued down by sweat, screwed up with pleasure and striving. All he could think as JD pistoned inside him--not hurting, but not pleasure for Robert anymore--was that he was giving him this. This was Robert's choice and gift, and when JD came, Robert could see gratitude in JD's face. Maybe that was how he always looked when he got off, but Robert took it for his own.

Robert watched JD get his breath back, eyes closed again, and slid off. Convenient towels were stacked on a shelf in the nightstand, and he grabbed one to clean JD's chest and then himself. He didn't know what to say, or what to do. JD reached up and pulled him down, and they lay next to each other, Robert's head on JD's shoulder. Robert didn't understand why his chest hurt, or what was trying to come out the back of his throat. He put a hand on JD's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his breath, feeling the heat. He decided to ask.

"Are you--" his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Are you positive?"

"About what?" JD said, running his fingers through Robert's hair.

Robert turned and bit JD, but not seriously enough to hurt him. "You know what I mean. HIV. You always feel like you have a fever, but you're, you know, healthy."

JD's hand stilled in Robert's hair. "Aren't you supposed to ask me that before we have sex? I mean, this is backwards even for you." Robert didn't say anything, and he wasn't sure why he'd decided to ask now. He waited, and eventually JD's hand started moving again. Robert was about to decide that the silence was confirmation, when JD said, "I'm not. Is that why you waited so long for me to fuck you?"

"Didn't hear you complaining," Robert said, not sure what was unwinding in his chest. "No. Just-- It's the first time since..." He trailed off, his throat as tight as his chest was open.

"Yeah, I think you said something about that." JD's hand changed its motions, touching his head more firmly as it stroked through Robert's hair. "It's all right."

Robert tucked his chin down, knowing that it wasn't a platitude from JD. It was all right. It could be all right, and it wasn't, because this big bed wasn't only JD's. Robert needed to get up and out of the room. "You want to go out? After that, I'm not sure I can dance." He sat up.

JD eyed him. "What are you thinking?"

Robert said, "There's a new movie, Portal. I played that game when I was a kid."

"Then you know the ending. The cake is a lie."

Robert looked at JD. He looked relaxed. Robert didn't feel relaxed. His body was more sated than he'd been in five years, but he felt want, need, restlessness for something, but he didn't know what. He said, "Well, what do you want to do?"

"We could hang out here. You saw the video library. Unpack your toothbrush, watch stupid movies with me, and fuck me in the morning." JD smiled, half-lidded. "Or fuck me in an hour or two."

Robert tried to play along. "Got anything to put us in the mood?"

"All that stuff is on one of my hard drives. Mitchell has a house rule about keeping it out of the living room. Besides, she'd have too much fun watching us watch porn." That was not an image Robert wanted in his head, and his legs twitched with the need to move, to be out. JD said, "You okay?"

Robert felt he had to say something. He couldn't say that he couldn't sleep there, not without insulting Cammie by implication. He blurted out, "You've really helped me get over it." He sounded stupid and earnest in his own ears. He couldn't believe he'd just said that.

JD opened his mouth, taking in a breath to speak, then stopped himself from whatever it was. "It's really okay. Don't mention it." As always with JD, the politeness wasn't only polite. Robert could tell that about the last JD would want to do would be to talk about it, and Robert had the dry, hot feeling that he had just completely screwed up.

He swallowed dust. "I should probably go." He hoped he wouldn't have to explain why, and fought the urge to fold in on himself.

"You're not the first person who couldn't handle the idea of sleeping with Mitchell, too."

Robert looked up. JD's face was impassive, but the phrasing could only be meant to wound, to make some point, to push away. Robert got up and dressed, and JD reached around him to get his shorts from the clothes rack, stepping into them as Robert sat on the bed to pull on his socks. Robert felt defeated, drained, the twinge in his ass reminding him of just how high he had been, and how far he felt he'd come down. He didn't like it, the tug of extremes. He looked at JD, who had his back to him, arms down as he buttoned and zipped, and for a moment the tattoos looked like wings folded tightly down. The illusion was broken when, along with some movement of dressing, JD's elbows moved away from his sides.

Robert stood, but he didn't want to just walk out the door in an awkward exit. JD saved him by turning and opening it, standing aside and following Robert to the living room, past the kitchen, and to the front door. Robert sat on the bench to put on his shoes, and JD leaned into the hall closet to get Robert's bag. Robert looked up, and realized what was wrong with the living room. There was no sign of Cameron Mitchell's military service, no flags or Air Force insignia, no medal in its shadow box in place of honor. Whatever had happened to her had left scars in places other than her legs.

JD punched the alarm code into the pad by the door, and let Robert out, following and carrying the duffel bag out to the car.

It was trying to snow, a spitting, stupid, late spring snow that didn't have enough sense to know that if it reached the ground it would only melt. The flakes that hit JD's hair melted, but those that landed on his skin seemed almost to steam the instant they touched. Robert reached for the duffel bag, but JD didn't let it go. They stood, each with a hand on the strap.

After a moment, JD said, "I shouldn't have said that." Robert looked up. JD meant it.

"But it was true," Robert said. "And I'm not sure I can take the whole package." He meant more than Cammie, but wasn't sure that JD knew.

"Look, I--" JD looked away, squinting off to the right, as if looking for something through the snow. "I should have just let you take me to Pepper Tree."

Robert didn't trust himself to say anything appropriate, so he looked off in the direction JD had, seeing trees and mountains, slightly obscured by the haze of small snowflakes.

"Hey," JD said, putting a hand under Robert's chin, leaning in close enough to kiss. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me, too." Robert leaned in. The kiss was dry and closed-mouthed, but it was warm.

When they drew away from each other, JD let go of the duffel and put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "Want to take a step back?"

Robert nodded. "See you next Saturday? Sphinx?"

"Same bat time, same bat channel."

Robert squinted at JD. It was another of his weird, old references. He said, "Yeah."

JD stepped back, and Robert got into the Audi. "Drive safe," JD said before the door closed. Robert nodded at him, started the car, and turned it around to head straight out the long drive to the road.

He pulled his earpiece out of the center console, turned it on, and said, "Call Sunny."

He didn't get an answer in four rings, so he thumbed the switch to cut the call, and said, "Call Emily." It was after 10:00, but it was an hour earlier where she lived, so she'd probably be up.

His sister answered after two rings. "Robert, everything okay?"

"Yeah." He suddenly didn't want to talk.

"You don't call me on Saturday night without a reason. Give."

"You sure this is a good time?"

"Yep. Perfect. The girls are in bed, and the little nipper's having his bedtime snack. Nursing can be boring. I may have to interrupt you to change sides, but what's up?"

Robert could feel himself blushing. He loved his sister and his nieces, and even this new nephew he hadn't met, but there were details of female biology he never wanted to think about. He took a breath. "There's this guy."

"I'll alert the media," Emily said, but she caught herself. "Sorry. I just, I don't know. I can be a little jealous."

Robert knew, and he had always tried to minimize the differences between her family life and his bachelor existence. Only when he thought of it did he realize existence was the only word that applied to him. He was existing only, and had been for about five years. Even these last six months with JD, he'd been walling off every thought of emotion. He snorted. Sunny had been right.

"Earth to Robert."

"I--" he started. "Look, you probably don't want details of my sex life, but this is important."

Emily didn't answer right away, and Robert wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to tell her, but she said, "The first time since--" She didn't fill in the word rape. "You were, I mean he did..."

"Yeah," Robert said, relieved he didn't have to say it. He was suddenly relieved that Sunny hadn't answered his phone. If he'd said as much to Sunny, he'd be getting an earful of _Oh, so Toppy Robby finally put his ass in the air_. But Sunny hadn't known him before, and couldn't know why it mattered.

His sister said, "That's good, right? Oh, wait a minute. Max needs a burp." Robert listened to the noises of her putting the baby over her shoulder. It must have been the side with the phone in her ear, because the baby sized brawp was a distinct noise. He started to laugh. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I really am. Better."

"Will you see him again?"

"I've been seeing him, I guess, for a while."

"So, what's the problem?

Robert told her, ignored two calls from Sunny, and listened to her put the baby to bed. He finished up as she went back down stairs to the couch. He could see her in his head, toys and stuffed animals scattered around the room, TV off, and probably a fire in the wood stove.

"There," she sighed. "I can sit now."

"What should I do?"

"It all sounds a little unusual."

"Thing is, I think you'd like Cammie."

"But you're telling me that they're life partners, not just business partners, and it's not like you have the slightest interest in women you're not related to."

"I like her fine," Robert protested, but he knew what Emily meant.

"What do your instincts tell you?"

"I don't know," Robert said.

"That's what you need to figure out."

"I know." They hung up, and Robert turned off his cell phone. He drove to Sphinx, and found someone he'd never met before to suck his dick.

When he got back to his car, he turned on his phone, and stared at the message notices. There were four calls from Sunny, and three text messages. Robert closed his hand around the phone and held his fist to his mouth, jaw tense against his fingers. He hated the thought of Sunday, irritated at Sunny for being gone, and at loose ends as to what to do without him. Robert drove home, reached for a beer, then changed his mind. He took the bourbon out of the cabinet, and got down a glass.

 

They were in a cubicle in the back, Robert leaning on his hands and pushing his hips in rhythm, JD holding on and fucking him. It was dirty and sweet, just the kind of thing Robert had loved before... Before... "Give it to me," he said, wishing he could come from JD's cock alone, but he couldn't. He reached down to feel JD, the wet slide where latex met flesh, before palming his own balls and stroking himself, in time with JD's hips at first, but then faster, racing to come, feeling himself clamp down. God this was good.

When he was finished, JD pulled out. Robert leaned against the wall with both hands again, trying to get his breath back. He heard JD tear off paper towels and then the noise of the condom coming off.

"Here," JD said, handing him the towels

Robert took a breath, then the towels, cleaned the lube off himself and wiped his semen off the wall and the floor. When he was done, he turned to throw the towels at the trash can, and saw JD putting on another condom. "I want your mouth." Robert had been seeing a new side of JD, an intense and commanding one. He liked it.

Robert pulled up his jeans and went to his knees.

 

They came through Robert's door and shed clothes on the way to the bed. JD spread himself face down. "Fuck me. Now. Don't wait." Robert swallowed. He'd been looking forward to putting his heels to the ceiling, watching JD's face as they fucked. "Get over your newfound pushy bottom status, and fuck me." JD said. "It's been a few weeks. I miss it." Robert wasted no time finding a condom and lube. He tossed the square packet on the bed and slicked up his fingers, then pushed one past resistance to slide it into JD. JD spread his legs and arched his back, opening and inviting despite the hiss of discomfort Robert could hear, and the words that came out. "Shit. Ah! More. Now."

Robert did as he was asked, working in the second and third fingers quickly, and contemplating a fourth. JD pushed and begged, and Robert absently wondered if he'd have to fist him. The tone under JD's calls for more and harder had an edge of pain.

Robert pulled back, sliding only two fingers back in. He felt the muscles of JD's opening clench around him, as he looked for JD's gland, trying to make this more pleasure than pain. JD made a noise of frustration. "More," he said.

Robert folded four fingers together and pushed. JD again made a noise that held desire and pain, and Robert poured on more lube and pushed deeper, watching his knuckles disappear as he forced JD open. Much more, and Robert would almost be in up to his palm. There was no room for finesse, for finding the things that felt good.

The noises coming out of JD were strangled, and Robert wasn't sure if JD was trying not to scream in pain or not wake Robert's neighbors. Robert noted that JD wasn't hard, and he wasn't either. JD's noises resolved into a rasped whisper of, "Oh God, please. Oh god."

__

__

"Please. Oh god, please." He knew begging wouldn't help, but he couldn't control it any more. He just wanted it to stop.

One of the voices said, "Man, I can't even jack off to this shit."

"Little faggot isn't even hard. I thought they were supposed to like this stuff."

The third voice said, "Who knows with faggots."

'I thought they were supposed to like this shit," the second voice said again.

"Maybe he wants a real prick," the third voice said. "Anybody want to fuck him?"

"Hell no," said the second voice. "That'd make me queer."

"Didn't make you queer to have him suck you off."

"I'm bored," said the first voice. "We done yet?"

"I guess so. Clean off that wrench and we'll dump him."

"I can't do this," Robert said, pulling out his fingers slowly, rubbing a circle on JD's lower back with the other hand, centered on the point of the tattoo. JD stilled, trembling, and Robert got up to wash his hands. JD had his jeans on by the time Robert came out from the bathroom, and was slipping into his shirt, face blank.

Robert wanted to say he was sorry. He felt he should. It hadn't been nice to leave JD in whatever state had caused him to want the more and the harder that Robert couldn't give. JD stared at the photographs of military aircraft on the wall. It reminded Robert of their first night and the sense that JD had lied to him. "Which one's the most fun to fly?" Robert asked.

JD let out his breath slowly, but Robert couldn't say he sighed. "Why do you think I'd know?"

"I don't know. I do know you've been a pilot."

"You know?" JD asked. Robert thought he heard something like fear in JD's tone, but it was mostly dressed in layers of sarcasm. "How can you know something that's not true?" Robert didn't answer. He thought it would be the easiest way of drawing JD out.

He was wrong. Robert was the first to give in. "Do you know what my job is?"

"Marketing," JD said, and Robert heard a neutral tone meant to cover a very slight scorn.

"But not the way you think," Robert said. "I profile the targets for the sales reps."

"What, like Mulder?" When Robert didn't answer, JD said, "I guess you never watched the X-Files."

"Sorry, no." Robert took a breath. "I'm good at reading people. It's what I do for a living."

JD snorted. "Interesting."

Robert said, "You don't make sense."

"No," JD said, his eyes still on the aircraft. "I'm sure I don't."

Robert took another breath. "I'm sorry."

JD's answer surprised him. "About what?"

"I should have, you know, given you what you needed. It's just that it--"

"Triggered something," JD said.

"Yeah." Robert watched JD. He was still looking at the aircraft, eyes moving over the lines, glancing from one to the other. Robert could almost hear the gears turning, but he had no idea what JD was thinking. Robert said, "A couple of months ago, I could have done whatever you wanted me to do to you."

"So what happened?" JD asked.

"You. You gave it back to me, just the way I needed it. But I don't understand you. I thought I did. I can tell what your body wants, but I don't know what _you_ want." Robert shook his head, even though JD wasn't looking at him. "I can't read you."

JD finally moved, dropping his head for a half second. He muttered, almost as if he didn't want Robert to hear it, "I'm not the only one you can't read." JD looked back up at the pictures a few more moments, and then turned to Robert. "We're done, right? You know. Over."

"Yeah," Robert said, and dropped his eyes without thinking. Then he looked up. "Why?"

"Preference. In bed," JD said. JD lied. JD told the truth. "You got me used to some really prime dick." Robert's chest froze, the air in his lungs suddenly unable to move in or out. JD was looking at the wall, and the crude choice of words, the stance, were designed to distance, to wound. "I'm going to miss it, but I guess the last three weeks of tapering off should make it easier." Robert couldn't say the one thing in his head, because JD was still talking. "I thought you were a buster, not a bronco. Did a good imitation for a while, there."

Robert wasn't familiar with the terms, but it wasn't hard to figure out what JD meant. "Before," he said. "And then you--" Robert cut himself off so he wouldn't repeat himself.

"I liked you fucking me. I liked fucking you. It wasn't supposed to be therapy. If I'd known I'd lose the best sex I've ever had, I would have tried harder to avoid the whole sexual healing thing. I've always hated that song, anyway." JD said, a sneer in his voice, even if it wasn't on his face. He immediately followed it with, "Sorry."

Robert heard pure Minnesota under the Chicago under the Mid-Atlantic flat accent. It came in the O sound and practiced clip of sorry, and he thought back to the dishes Cammie had served at dinner last month. He'd thought the wild rice soup meant they'd Googled him enough to know he was from Pipestone, but he was shocked to realize it had to be more than that. Who else but a Minnesotan would apologize for purposefully trying to piss someone off?

Robert had to let him off the hook. "So, you know, not working out this top and bottom thing first is just another example of me doing things backwards, right?"

JD threw back his head and laughed, surprised and real and almost relaxed. Robert was pleased that JD had accepted the kindness, and maybe even believed it, but now he just wanted him gone. He kept his ironic smile on his face, and said, "Say goodbye to Cammie for me."

"I'll do that," JD said. He looked fully at Robert for the first time. "Say hi to Sunny for me." And then he was gone.

Robert sat on the couch, looking at the photographs of the U-2 spy plane, the Blackbird, the high-altitude craft. They all reminded him somehow of the contradictions of JD--remote and flashy, safe and dangerous. Robert liked airplanes, but he hadn't liked flying them. They were something he could appreciate from a distance, knowing that they were complicated and beautiful, with a very low margin for error. Everything was there for a reason, even if Robert didn't know all the engineering. Same with JD, but Robert knew he would never have been able to figure out what was underneath that beautiful paint job.

Tomorrow was Sunday, and he still hadn't figured out what to do without Sunny for brunch. Then he realized what JD had said--not to say goodbye to Sunny, but to say hi.

Robert sat at his computer, barely thinking about what he was doing. His travel calendar was clear for the next week, and there weren't any important meetings scheduled in the office. He emailed his boss saying he'd be out Monday, and likely the rest of the week as well. He had vacation due, and it paid sometimes to be a star performer. There wouldn't be any serious repercussions. Within forty-five minutes he'd burned frequent flyer miles and paid the expedite fee. It would mean getting up in four hours to make the flight, but it would be worth it. With the time difference, he'd make it to Atlanta in time for brunch.

 

"Quite a story." Robert felt lips on his forehead, a kiss and a blessing, a ghost of long hair brushing his cheek, catching in the stubble of his beard. "Thank you."

"For what?" Robert asked.

"For coming to me. For telling me what happened to you. For delivering Tattoo Boy's message."

There was something Robert was missing, something deeper than what had been said. He couldn't get it without looking at the body language, too. Robert tried opening his eyes again and decided it wasn't a good idea. "What happens next?"

"You go to sleep, and tomorrow I will cure your hangover. After that, we will see."

"What about work? You just started. You can't have a day off already."

"They fire me, then I'll quit."

Even drunk, Robert caught the flaw. "If you're fired, how can you quit?"

Sunny's voice was soft. "For you, the moon."

"You love me." The words were out before Robert thought them. When he heard them in his own ears, he knew they were true.

"I want to hear my name."

"Okay," Robert said, thinking it was a random request, even given the source. "Sunny," he said. "You making sure I know where I am?"

"No. My _name_."

"Song Yang," Robert said, and it felt good in his mouth, and he didn't want to stop saying it. "Song Yang, Song Yang, Song Yang."

Sunny pressed his lips to Robert's, shushing him. "Yes. I hope you are not so drunk you won't remember this conversation in the morning."

"How could I forget." Robert smiled and managed to get his eyes open. Sunny leaned over him, looking amused, with his head on one hand and the hair that had escaped from his ponytail framing his face. Robert said, "You told me you loved me."

"I did not."

"Did, too."

fin

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: One of the characters suffered a gang rape in the past. This is referred to, and one part of it is narrated in memory. It is not include for prurience, and impacts character and motivations.
> 
> Many thanks to tesserae_ and [Ivorygates](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorygates/pseuds/ivorygates) who kicked my ass on the first version of this story, which was lazy, stupid, and not very good. synecdochic gave it a final comment, but really, if you like this at all, thank tesserae_ and ivorygates, not me. I so fucking owe them.


End file.
